


Take Me to Paradise

by Seven_tan



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Clothed Sex, Deepthroating, Dub Con that becomes Con, Light Bondage, M/M, Old fic but good fic, PWP, Riding, Sensory Deprivation, gagging, lol sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_tan/pseuds/Seven_tan
Summary: The world is fuzzy when he wakes up, his mind feeling like static and his tongue thick in his mouth. The first thing Hinata notices when his brain is awake enough to start thinking things is that he's sitting upright, which is unusual for him.He's also tied up and blindfolded, which is also unusual and extremely distressing.__Komaeda ties up Hinata and has his wicked way with him.





	Take Me to Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from the kinkmeme, I guess. I finally finished it after like four years lmfao.  
> my first real honest to goodness pwp on this site. God help me.

The world is fuzzy when he wakes up, his mind feeling like static and his tongue thick in his mouth. The first thing Hinata notices when his brain is awake enough to start thinking things is that he's sitting upright, which is unusual for him.

He's also tied up and blindfolded, which is also unusual and extremely distressing.

There's a cool hand on his face almost immediately when he jerks violently to full awareness and strains the muscles in his arms to try and at least loosen the binds that were holding them behind his back (cloth, he thinks, probably. It's not rough like rope, and it's not thin enough to be wire). Naturally, he yanks his face back in surprise. That's definitely Komaeda's laugh, though. Hinata isn't sure he should be relieved by this development, but he kind of is regardless of whether or not he should be.

"Komaeda-"

It's intended as a warning, or at least an acknowledgement of 'yes hello I know it's you,' with a hint of 'untie me right now,' but the message, as is what usually happens with him and Komaeda, is completely lost. Instead, he chuckles lowly, and rubs Hinata's face with his cool hands again.

"I'm sorry for tying you up like this, Hinata." He sure doesn't sound sorry, but he's got to be leaning in quite close to his face because there is breath on his collarbone. "Even though it's probably disgusting to have trash like me touch you, won't you allow me to apologize properly?"

That's confusing. Everything about this guy is confusing. Hinata isn't sure if that's even intended to be an innuendo, and wrinkles his brow at both the self-deprecation and the choice of words. He settles for a stern reply: "What are you even talking about?", because that's the easiest and least half-panicked reply he can come up with right now. The chair (cold metal and plastic, he thinks, probably from the Live Room) digs into his shoulder blades as he leans away from the source of the voice.

Komaeda runs his hand through Hinata's hair with no reply other than a soft hum. There's a light brush of fabric on his arm as Komaeda moves, presumably to be more squarely in front of him, and Hinata shifts uncomfortably in his bindings.

"Let me show you?"

Presumably the words are intended to be light, with little to no connotation. Instead, Hinata is struck dumb by both them and the feeling of cold hands stroking down his throat and undoing the top button of his shirt. His brain spins out of control as his tie is undone, his mouth making small motions akin to a gaping fish. Hinata starts to ask what the fuck is wrong with him, stops, and decides that maybe just what the fuck is sufficient. "Wh-?"

He doesn't even get that far before his own tie is jammed into his mouth with little ceremony. There goes that plan.

Hinata's brain decides that it's high time to engage full panic mode. He knows, he knows that Komaeda is unpredictable, has shown an inexplicable fondness for both the super high school level students and said super high school students killing each other off for the sake of furthering whatever crazy hope/despair boner he's got going on in that unstable head of his. He also knows, a little worm-like thought betrays him, that he thinks (thought) that Komaeda wouldn't hurt him. The knowledge of what is essentially a betrayal stings his throat even as he flails desperately within the cloth, trying to form muffled words from behind his own tie. 'Don't kill me,' he thinks, begs, and feels the first pangs of legitimate fear clutch at his chest. It builds steadily into a mantra as though Komaeda could somehow tell what he was thinking, his arms and legs straining desperately against the chair to try and find some leverage, a weak point in the cloth, maybe, to no avail. Hinata is completely at his mercy.

The hand never leaves his face. 

It takes him several long minutes of Komaeda not doing anything to even begin to calm down, and he is shaking with adrenaline while he does it. His breathing is thick and wet, the cloth against his eyes damp as a testimony to his weakness. The chair creaks as he sags in his bonds with a low noise and Komaeda's hands rake through his hair delicately. There's another hand underneath his chin that urges him to tilt his face up a bit. Drained, he complies, and is met with cool chapped lips against the side of his mouth.

Rational thought comes rushing back all at once, as Hinata finally realizes that maybe murder-suicide isn't exactly the kind of 'touching' Komaeda had in mind. 

"Sorry," comes Komaeda's light voice, still much too close to his face. "I probably should have explained myself a bit more first." He's laughing at him, and Hinata flushes hotly with embarrassment at his actions. There's smooth hands on his throat again, brushing down, and he feels the next button on his shirt pop open with little resistance. Hinata can feel Komaeda's hair against his cheek, and a bony knee insinuates itself between his.

'Why am I going along with this,' Hinata's brain is still on standby as the last of his buttons come free one by one and his shirt is pushed to the side. 'I mean it's better than dying, sure, but-' 

There's another rustle of fabric, and something is draped over the back of the chair and around his shoulders-Komaeda's coat, probably, given the smell and texture. Komaeda makes a soft, pleased sound, and his hands are still cold as they scrape lowly over his stomach. There's a mouth on his neck just behind his jaw, and Hinata jerks back almost violently with a startled sound when he feels a stir of interest within himself. He can feel the taut of Komaeda's lips as he smiles against his throat, and those damnable hands are still tapping along his hips. 

He attempts to protest around the tie wadded up in his mouth, but those muffled sounds start sounding very much like something else entirely as Komaeda bites down gently on the jut of his collarbone. There's heat in the pit of his stomach, in his cheeks where they've grown hot, and there's still a smile on Komaeda's face as he nips his way lower down. 

"You're very special, Hinata." the breath on his navel makes him jolt, hot compared to the chill of his skin. "Really! So, I want to make you feel good." 

It feels like his heart has sunk into the fire in the pit of his stomach. Hinata makes a low noise, part confused panic and part something he can't put his finger on, as he feels the snap on his jeans come loose. Cold fingers are calmly shimmying his pants down his hips, hook into his boxers and-

"Oh!"

Hinata makes a humiliated sound behind the gag, which is quickly choked to a stop when Komaeda delightedly takes his half-hardness in hand. He shrinks somewhat at the cold, but then his body remembers that there's actually a hand on his dick without his permission, and he tenses against the sensation of his own quickly renewed interest with clenched teeth. He can feel his jeans being gently tugged down until they're pooling just above where his calves are bound to the chair legs.

Then it's not just a hand and he abandons all hope of trying to keep quiet.

Komaeda's tongue is hot, but it leaves trails of wetness on his heated flesh that leave him panting hard through his nose. There's a ringing in his ears and magma in his chest, a slow, wet burn from hips to throat that he can't stop. Hinata clamps down on his tie, already wet with saliva, jerks and shakes as Komaeda swipes his tongue over the head, but heady noises escape him anyway, though muffled by the gag. He feels like he could cry, overwhelmed and tight, like there is no other stimulus except Komaeda's hand and mouth on him. 

There's shifting that he can hear while Komaeda retreats momentarily, along with the sound of zipper and a heavy breath. Hinata can only assume that the other boy is likely touching himself and the thought electrifies him right through to his toes. An apology is mumbled hotly into the juncture of hip and thigh, and Hinata shakes his head against both the words (though surely Komaeda is well distracted by now) and the sensation of teeth sinking gently into the flesh of his thigh.

Fingers brush along under his unbuttoned shirt, brushing it aside and fold themselves into the line of his spine insistently, like Komaeda can't get enough of touching him. He can feel that ridiculous jacket draped over his shoulder, the fabric brushing lightly along his skin like a blanket. There's static in the edges of his vision, although it's obviously dark and obscured already by the blindfold. Hinata's ears are ringing with the force of his adrenaline driven confusion, his mind and body on autopilot, his chest a syrupy mixture of panic and desperate want. He can hear nothing but his heartbeat in his ears and Komaeda's wet noises, feel nothing but the fire-hot sensation of an inexperienced throat spasming around his length; he's gagging, Hinata has no doubt, and the fact that Komaeda is doing that to himself, choking himself on Hinata's dick is-

Definitely more than he can handle thinking about without actually coming. He'll have to think about that later, when he has a bit more brain power to be devoted to unearthing his apparently hidden kinks. 

Hinata is embarrassingly fired up, he's never been this hard in his life, mere seconds away from an awkwardly quick orgasm. It adds a bitter shot of humiliation with a twist of disgust to the sweet, hot cocktail stirring in his belly. The fact that it's Komaeda on his knees in front of him, about to make him cum, fuck, he can hear himself making throaty, shrill noises through his gag. Komaeda isn't particularly good or bad at it, but his teenage body doesn't care, it hums for the attention, for the heat that Komaeda is offering him. 

There's a slick sort of slurping sound and an immediate rush of cold air on wet skin, and the sudden lack of sensation when he was so close to the edge and the sting of the chill makes him whine, a shamefully high sound. Komaeda is laughing at him again, and it's thicker, wetter than usual, what had been near wheezing was now closer to a rasp. The blunt familiarity of it is enough to bring him away from the almost surreal quality that the air had taken, and the fact that someone he'd known (someone he'd been worried was going to kill him earlier, for fucks' sake) had literally just sucked his dick was almost enough to make him start laughing himself. 

Hinata can hear Komaeda moving, standing up maybe? The clear rustle of fabric, the sound of a bottle opening and closing accompanied by a mysterious liquid sound, and some fairly subdued thumps can somehow be heard over his still laboured breathing, and the chair creaks suddenly as a cold hand (and now naked wrist) grip the back of it, using it and Hinata's weight to support the weight of its owner. The lack of Komaeda's other hand anywhere that Hinata can immediately locate is troubling. Komaeda has a knee braced in between his thighs (he can't feel the rough scrape of denim from earlier, which is all at once a relief and absolutely terrifying) and is arched forward so his breath brushes against the side of his face gently. 

He smells like milk tea. It's a weird thing to notice, but he can't really focus on anything else but Komaeda's closeness and the small hitchings of his breath-

The reality of what exactly Komaeda is doing with his other hand hits him like a brick to the face. He must have made a face or a noise or something, because Komaeda is laughing at him again. 

"Sorry, Hinata." Komaeda's voice is almost just a shaky breath, and has a weird catch to it. Understandable, given the circumstances. "It can't be helped, I want to feel you." He can't help but expect that he would have continued, likely insulting himself in the process, but there's an undignified squelching noise and Komaeda's breath stutters into silence. Hinata is choking on his own oxygen, feels a drop of something warm and wet on his thigh, not sure if it's precum or lube. He is surprised and horrified and aroused all at once and. And. 

Hinata jerks at the sudden, inexplicable need to see. He finds himself silently mourning the fact that he can't watch Komaeda split himself open on his own fingers, can't run his hands down his shaking, jerking chest. Can't even see what colour his skin is, whether or not his ribs and collarbone jut out as much as he expects them to. 

He wants to watch. He is hard, has been hard for quite some time now, with another man on top of him getting ready to fuck himself on Hinata's dick. More urgently, he's come to the startling realization that not only is he going to get his dick wet, he now wants to be an active participant in this gay sex adventure apparently. 

Komaeda is gasping quietly now, oblivious to Hinata's current sexual identity crisis. He's trying to process too many things at once, his head is spinning, and well. 

His dick is still hard. Guess that's one country heard from. 

Mind reeling, Hinata is half startled when Komaeda leans in closer to him, brushes his chapped lips along his throat. There's a wet line on his stomach, and he scoots forward on the chair as much as he can to meet it. He's rewarded with a subtle nudge of what is obviously Komaeda's prick, and the bump of his shoulder connecting with his forehead and a shuddering moan. His breathing is thick, jerky, and Hinata is overcome with the urge to kiss him, to fuck into his mouth with his tongue, to bat Komaeda's hand away and replace his fingers with his own.

Hell, he's already gone along with this so far, might as well go the whole nine yards. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He prods at the tie with his tongue roughly, and fortunately Komaeda is not exactly an expert at gagging (his dick twitches uncomfortably at the memory) or bondage at all, and there is a considerable amount of give. He opens his mouth to the point where he's near unhinged his jaw and voila – his spit-soaked tie pops free, fluttering back down to his chest.

"H-inata?"

Komaeda's voice catches on his name, and the soft wet sounds halt, although there is no trace of movement. He can practically hear Komaeda's brain ticking, trying to figure out what would happen next.

"Kiss me."

His voice comes out thick and considerably rougher than he'd expected, and honestly he's almost embarrassed. A surprised sound comes from the other, and he rocks forwards again, just barely bumping Komaeda's dick against his stomach.

Grumbling, he turns his head and approximates where Komaeda's face would be. He misses spectacularly of course, planting his own flaming face in a mass of fluffy hair. "Come on, I'm not about to lose my virginity before my first kiss."

It's enough: Komaeda rocks into him with renewed vigour, pecking his lips hesitantly. Honestly, Hinata could have growled at him, catching his bottom lip between teeth and licking at the trapped skin. It's wet, sloppy, and undignified, not at all what he imagined his first kiss to be, but as Komaeda's tongue slides its way into his mouth, he finds that he doesn't actually care.

He duly notices that the slick sounds have started up again, and that Komaeda is panting into his mouth desperately. Hinata wants the use of his hands, so he can influence the situation is ways other than fucking Komaeda with his tongue like he's trying to do, or to grab him by the hair and shove him down and get this done properly. His prick throbs, neglected and untouched for long enough to be uncomfortable.

With an almost comical pop, Komaeda draws back, and there's a hitching whine in the back of his throat accompanied by another long, slick sound. The chair creaks dangerously as his weight is settled on the tops of Hinata's thighs, and his heart practically fucking stops when their erections make contact. Long fingers scramble to grab onto his shoulders, one of which is unpleasantly damp when it finally gets purchase in his shirt.

Then Komaeda grinds into him, a slow, deliberate press, and Hinata is groaning loud and low into his chest, his own hands tightening again against the cloth. Komaeda apparently planned this out pretty well: he can feel the tenseness of his thighs as the wiry muscles flex against him through his pants, and at that angle his long legs have got to have found some grounding against the floor, which is really, really convenient because Hinata's brain is not exactly focused on the physics of exactly how they're going to have sex while he'd tied to a chair as of right now. He'd never thought he'd be thanking his lucky stars for Komaeda's foresight (or unnatural good luck), but, well. Things happen sometimes.

Komaeda, speak of the devil, lifts himself up and forward somehow, and then with remarkable balance, he's grinding into Hinata with an entirely different part of his anatomy. He can feel the tremble in his wiry legs as he struggles to hold himself in this position, Komaeda's slightly wheezy pants echoing through the room.

Komaeda leans forwards again, and he hears the same uncapping sound from earlier accompanied by a gross squelching sound, and then there's a cold, wet hand on his dick, making him jump and twitch. There's a tiny bout of wheezy laughter, but it's short lived, mostly, Hinata expects, out of sheer nerves. The hand abruptly leaves his lap and smears whatever he used (lube, his brain supplies momentarily) on his shirt, which Komaeda has the decency to make a somewhat sheepish sound at him for when he starts to complain. A thing hand finds his shoulder again, and with his perch restored Komaeda grinds his ass against his newly slicked hardness, sending renewed shocks down through Hinata.

And then he sinks ever slightly down, Hinata's dick pressing tightly against his slick hole, and this is it, no take backs. He catches himself murmuring soft nonsense into Komaeda's collarbone (take it easy, relax some more), and Komaeda is just. Breathing, just staying like that, and after a moment, he eases himself further down.

The head glides obscenely as it passes into Komaeda fully, and Hinata thinks that he might have never heard anything better than the broken sound Komaeda makes. His heart is hammering against his chest again, slamming into his ribcage like it wants to escape, and Komaeda has wrapped his arms around Hinata's neck, fingers digging roughly into his shoulders where he'll likely leave bruises. He frankly doesn't give a shit. He's never felt anything like this before, this pressure, this vice-tight pleasure that's like having someone take hold of your insides and squeeze. Hinata's breath leaves him in short, tight gasps, almost in perfect harmony, he duly notices, with Komaeda's own breathing. He is still against him, around him, fuck that shouldn't be so-

 

A tight gasp wrings its way out of his throat as Komaeda begins to rock against him once more, nowhere near fully-seated, but slow, shallow thrusts against him that steadily rock Hinata further inside. Komaeda sounds positively wrecked, gasping and hiccuping like he's been punched in the gut, but it's in a good way, if the practically sobbing moans and the bobbing of his prick against Hinata's stomach is anything to go by. His ears and neck are fire-hot, and Komaeda's crazy hair is brushing against his face and filling his nose with his strangely sweet milk-tea smell and then he's suddenly surrounded by him, filling Komaeda right to the brim and being balls deep in his friend draws a high, primal sound from Hinata that he didn't even know he could make.

Hinata is on fire. He accidentally clamps his teeth down on Komaeda's neck, snapping them shut in a sudden need to preserve this, to make himself last just that much longer and not just come immediately inside of him – and shit, that thought makes him suddenly remember that Komaeda hadn't slipped a condom onto him. He isn't given much time to voice his worries, given that Komaeda starts to fuck himself on him with earnest, pulling up and then grinding back down into Hinata's lap at an angle that draws the most sinful sounds from him, high hitching moans and half-startled gasps that Hinata's only heard previously in particularly scandalous porn.

Neither of them last long after that, Komaeda grinds shamelessly, fluidly down onto him and into the soft flesh of his stomach, smearing pre along his navel. His dick is so wet against him it feels like it’s drooling, and he doesn’t even have to sandwich a hand between them before he makes a sound like he’s being strangled, rough and wet, painting Hinata’s front sloppily. He doesn’t care, Komaeda is still jerking and twitching into him, fucking himself down and clenching around him rhythmically, and Hinata’s just-he’s fucking. He’s gone, twisting his hips up as much as he can, and Komaeda whines, oversensitive with orgasm as he slams into his prostate. 

It’s a few minutes before either of them do anything other than pant harshly against each other, Komaeda sprawled over top of him and Hinata tucked into the crook of his neck. His arms are starting to get kind of stiff, though. 

Almost as if on cue, Komaeda lifts himself up with a soft sound (and Hinata is thoroughly wrecked by the sensation of his come leaking out of him and onto his bare thigh), and reaches behind him for-his coat? 

“Thanks Hinata, that was fun,” The blindfold falls off of Hinata’s eyes, and he’s rewarded with the sight of an utterly debauched Komaeda, face flushed cherry red and his shirt hitched up to his ribs. His hair is somehow even more of a mess than usual, and his lips look swollen and bruised. He’s got-he’s got a bite mark that’s already starting to bruise on the side of his neck and- shit. Shit he put that there.

Hinata’s dick gives another valiant twitch.

Komaeda’s eyebrows fly up, but he grins like the maniac that he is. 

“Oh? Ready for round two?” 

He’s so fucked.


End file.
